


i told you it was important.

by lionlannister



Category: Narcos (TV), Narcos: Mexico (TV)
Genre: Complex relationships, Elevator Sex, Just for a little while, M/M, Power Dynamics, Rough Sex, and pretending that isn't going to happen, but you're in love, hand holding, when you are going to betray each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:08:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22756795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionlannister/pseuds/lionlannister
Summary: A reimagining of the scene in Episode 5 in the elevator after the meeting with Pacho.
Relationships: Amado Carrillo Fuentes/Miguel Ángel Félix Gallardo
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	i told you it was important.

**Author's Note:**

> for the goldfish.
> 
> this is about the FICTIONAL versions of these men only and should not be taken as fic of the actual men. dialogue should be assumed to be in spanish but i do not speak spanish and google translate is Very Bad. also look out i have like ten fics inside me now that the new season is out lmao.
> 
> also i've never edited my writing even one time

He feels Amado’s arm across his neck before it’s actually there. The ghost of the arm before the arm is there but then it is, with a brutal swiftness that Miguel cannot help but admire. His face pressed into the side of the elevator and Amado reaches over to stop the elevator before Miguel even has time to worry about what cameras or bugs may be in here. Would Pacho watch a tape of them? No matter what happens here Miguel is certain the cruel bastard would get off on it. “What the fuck was that, Félix?” 

Ah, so now he wants to speak before acting. Miguel is almost disappointed, not much, but part of him wishes that Amado would just put on a show for the cameras that are certainly here. Maybe swing at him, maybe choke him, maybe kiss him, any of that would be better than trying to find a point to what has happened. “What? You were there, the old man screwed me over.” There’s a sharp and pitiful edge to his voice, and Amado laughs at the sound of it. It’s rare that he gets any sort of upper hand with Miguel, and it sends a shiver down Miguel’s spine to know that he is going to keep it for a while. At least for as long as they’re in this elevator. 

The arm against the back of his neck presses harder and Amado’s larger body moves closer. Miguel shudders and thinks about how easy it would be to tell Azul to kill him later. Thinks about how he won’t do that, at least not now. He’s killed so many men for less than laying hands on him, but Amado’s grip stays strong and Miguel knows he’ll let him walk away alive.

Yesterday, on the plane, Amado had gotten on his knees for him. When Miguel promised him the keys to the skies and the chance to rule them he’d thanked him by taking Miguel’s cock in his mouth. They were supposed to be celebrating. A night in Panama with no wives, or bodyguards, or cops. They were never romantic men, would never put a name to what they did to each other when they were alone. But it was something, and now? Now Amado has shoved him against a wall and Miguel can feel the anger in his body. He can also feel that he’s hard. A surge of victory comes with that, knowing it was him that made Amado hard and not that smug Colombian bastard who so clearly wanted him in a way he’s never wanted Miguel. Not that Miguel would touch him, no, that would give him far too much power. 

But that thought brings him back to this, an arm pressing him into a wall, a body pressed against his, a knowledge that he deserves whatever Amado wants to do to him. “Seventy tons?” He whispers the words, drags it out like saying it will break whatever spell Pacho cast over them and make the number smaller. In this story, the magic words don’t work. In this story, Amado’s arm pushes hard, his hand reaches down to push Miguel’s pants down just enough to get at what he wants. And Miguel lets him, fuck, Miguel smiles against the wall of the elevator. 

Let Amado fuck him, take him in a way that Miguel almost never allows him to do, because for this plan to work Miguel needs Amado on his side. “The camera,” he pants out the word, tilting his head up towards the corner where he had seen the thing just a moment before. As much as he knew Pacho would not use this against them, there were a great many people that wound, and besides, Pacho didn’t get to have Amado like this. Only Miguel did. Amado belonged to him.  
And he obeyed him once more, possibly for the last time tonight, and tore Miguel’s jacket off his shoulders only to ball it up and stuff it against the camera. “Good.” Though Amado says it like a question it isn’t, so Miguel does not bother to answer or even nod.

He’s cursed them, put a target on their back that it could be seen from the moon. The DEA, the PRI, now Cali? All of them can scent blood in the water and Miguel just released so much blood he will never be able to clean it up in time. Amado knows this, Miguel can feel it in the way he tries to choke him from behind, the way he pushes his pants further down and doesn’t let Miguel move his hands enough to help get Amado’s own pants open. He doesn’t want Miguel to move or speak or think, and for just a few moments Miguel will give him what he wants. 

I can’t do this without you. 

I don’t have partners. 

“You fucking bastard.” It’s all Amado says as he pushes himself into Miguel, just spit on his fingers and cock to make it a little easier for both of them. But this isn’t about easier. It isn’t even about sex, if they wanted that they could do it any other time. Not in a stopped elevator in Panama with a member of the Cali Cartel upstairs, and a death sentence hanging over them that looked like seventy tons of cocaine they couldn’t ship. 

One of Amado’s hands moves from the wall to Miguel’s waist, pushing up the fabric of his shirt to be on his overheated skin. Each thrust into him is brutal, violent in a way that Miguel knows Amado can be, in a way that he’s sent him to be to other men with a gun in his hand. But the hand, God his hand is soft on his skin. His long fingers rub circles in his hip, press against the bone but never enough to hurt. No, he leaves the pain to his cock and the arm still across his neck. 

Miguel can handle the pain, could handle the sweetness too, but together? It makes his hands on the wall go tense, his nails digging into the expensive wallpaper as he pushes back against Amado, silently trying to get him to hurt him more, to take what he wants, and stop touching him like that. He doesn’t stop, keeps his hand gentle and it makes Miguel want to claw his arm off but he can’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he puts one hand around Amado’s wrist without knowing what his plan is. What a joke, Miguel Ángel Félix Gallardo without a plan. Will he push it away? Claw at his wrist? 

In the end, he does neither.

He wraps his fingers, long and elegant and made for worse things than this, around Amado’s like he’s holding his hand. Something they have never done. Something they likely will never do again. Their fingers wrap around each other and Amado’s forehead crashes down into Miguel’s neck, as he finishes inside him. It’s the hand he’s used to keep Miguel against the wall that wraps around his cock, not the one holding onto him, not the one touching him so fucking gently, no, that one stays right where it is. 

When Miguel finishes and Amado pulls out of him neither of them say a word, they don’t even look at each other, even though their fingers are still wrapped around each other like teenagers on a date, like they’re anyone other than who they are. Amado is the one to pull away first, he’s never done that before and Miguel is furious to find that he does not like him having that ability. 

Both of them piece themselves back together, not daring to reach out and touch each other again. Miguel itches to push Amado’s hair from his face, Amado’s hand doesn’t lift partway like he wants to pull him closer again. The last piece put back in place is the jacket, Amado tosses it back to Miguel before pressing the button to get the elevator moving again.

“I’ll need planes and we don’t have any.”

The door dings as it opens and Miguel leaves first.

“Then get some.”


End file.
